It's Kinda A Funny Story
by Naru-chibi Avatar
Summary: We all know where they ended up, but how they got there is a whole other story. Prequel to Quickie. Rated T for now, may change as it develops.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Thank you all for hanging in there and expressing your interest in my writing. I have had this rattling around in my skull for a few months now, but a lot of it is still under construction. So, for now, I'll be releasing a chapter a week. At least until I figure out the way I want it to roll. Also, I don't own Batman or it's characters, however any original characters within are allll mine.

Alright, let's get this show on the road!

Lithe feet struck silently against the dingy tile of the visitor's entrance. Their owner's gaze darted back and forth as she nervously readjusted her grungy cap, a sorry grey sort of affair, and inhaled deeply. She held it, committed to her plan, before exhaling as she shifted into action and walked to the sign in sheet. Her slim fingers plucked up the pen chained to the counter, yet another reminder of where she was. What this pen could be used to do. Her lips pressed a little tighter together, brow furrowed as the smell of desperation seeped into her skin, probably from the woman in line behind her who rocked on the balls of her feet and hunched a bit, as if trying to comfort herself from the bleakness of this room and what lie beyond.

Cassandra Jones.

The period mocked her, as if to remind her that no one was checking for punctuation or even cared that she was here. No one cared about anything in this sad haunting hellish place. Blinking back the burn in her eyes, she turned away from the counter and swept the room full of plastic creaking chairs. Some had carvings in the plastic seats, while some were broken with great chunks of orange plastic sticking straight up in jagged reprimand for anyone looking to find any sort of comfort here.

She picked one closest to the vending machine, ignoring the nausea that rose deep in her gullet at the sight of the cheap offerings, the memory of a younger her gouging deep into spongy cakes and synthetically cheesy chips with a pathetic voracity. She was so willing to eat anything to feed that gnawing, ceaseless hunger. She turned her face away from the bags of junk, eyes finding the sheet as if able to will her name to be called.

Irritated with herself, unable to deal with her own pining, she turned her gaze on her fellow waiters. It was slim pickings, it being noon on a Wednesday, when she was supposed to be in school in fact. But this was infinitely more important than that. So she focused on anything but herself and what….who she was here to see. There was an older man who seemed unruffled by this place as he worked on what looked like a crossword puzzle. There was a teenager with him, and her head rested on his shoulder as she barely watched his pencil scribble his best guesses. Already bored, she turned her gaze on the woman who'd stood behind her in line, now taking her seat further back against the wall.

She looked put together, wearing what looked like a uniform for the local grocers since she was still wearing her lanyard. She fret silently, patting and securing some unseen hair back into place then going to work on her nails. She couldn't see them well, having left her glasses at home, but she would be willing to bet they were gnawed to the quick. Just like hers were, since her brand new manicure was already chipped and gnarly from the nervous ride here. Her viewing party was interrupted by the door opening to admit a burly looking guard, her gaze remained uninterested until he met hers with a hint of frustration and walked over to her.

He seemed uninterested in making a scene as he kneeled by her chair and leaned in, enough to look uninteresting to anyone watching but too close for her tastes. He smelled rank. "Sweetie, you're not allowed to be here without your guardian. Those were the conditions of the visitation, as settled by the judge. Now we're going to call them and let them know you're here. I'm sure they're very worried."

Her head snapped up and her lips twisted to refute him, but he was already standing and extending his hand. Some cheap parody of sympathy on his face distorted her stomach and she clenched her hands on the cold hard plastic of her seat. "No, I'm here to see Slain. I'm not leaving until I see him." She frowned up at him, nervousness returning. He seemed so much….bigger. His frown made him look much meaner too, and she could suddenly see why the guards stayed behind those doors instead of the waiting room. It made this too real, too pressing.

She felt the need to run, eyes alighting on the door he'd come through, and her senses left her. Her feet got under her, shoving herself off the chair and into motion as she sprinted for the door. She heard him shout, and she was at the door, grasping the handle and yanking, a desperate cry leaving her chapped lips as it didn't even budge. Her frenzied brain noticed the scanner attached to the wall, flaunting the fact that she'd been so stupid to think it would open for her.

She kept yanking, hearing murmurs behind her as her cheeks burned hot and her eyes burned hotter. "Please, let me in." She whispered, turning to find someone, anyone, who was really sympathetic. The older guy had left his puzzle in his seat, talking in a low voice to the guard, who no longer looked angry, just tired. He nodded at something then turned to talk to the guard seated at the counter. She looked up as the guy came closer, her hand still tight around the door handle. He cleared his throat and nodded to her grip. "I think it's safe to let go now. How about we talk? Just a quick chat, I promise I'm one of the good guys." He moved his tan coat aside to show her a gleaming Gotham PD badge clipped to his belt.

Her face felt tight, temples throbbing in her upset. But she nodded and let go of the handle, following him as he gestured to where his daughter now peered at her with blatant curiosity. She sat in his vacated seat and gripped his puzzle in her lap. He sat on the other side of her, turning his body to look directly at her. His gaze felt like one of those spotlight lamps she'd seen in a theatre once, intense and blinding.

"I just want to see my brother. I need to see him." She repeated lowly, as if any louder would shine a spotlight on her desperation for him to prod at. But he didn't, if anything his expression softened further. He scrubbed his palm over his jaw, sighed deeply and looked at the guards by the counter. "Hang on, kid." He grunted as he stood and headed over, leaving her with his kid. Although calling her kid seemed like a relative term, since she looked her age if not older. "Don't worry, my dad is pretty cool. I'm sure he can get them to back off." She smiled slightly but it dropped just as quickly, almost as if she was aware how gauche it would be to smile here.

She watched the guards, they seemed irritated, but there was a lot of nodding. She didn't want to be hopeful, but it bloomed in her chest despite her wariness. But it paid off when he returned with a visitor badge and handed it over to her. "Here kid, enjoy your visit. And make sure to call your parents after, couldn't budge them on that one, sorry." She snatched it from his hand, muttering an apology after but she was already up and veering towards the door. She swiped the badge at the scanner and delighted at the tinny 'beep' it exuded before the door popped open for her.

Manners hammered into her by persistent parents had her turning, holding the door with her foot as she looked at the guy again. "Thank you officer…" Her face burned, she never got his name. He smiled with understanding, puzzle back in his hands. "Detective Gordon, and this is my daughter Barbara. It was a pleasure meeting you, Cassandra." He waved. She fidgeted, looking over her shoulder to the pathway to her brother. "Uhm, you can call me Casey." They weren't friends, teenagers weren't friends with adults, but she had a feeling they would meet again. He had done her a huge solid, the least she could give was a little less formality.

She turned again, off like a shot before the door could even close.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

~Five Years Later~

Casey yawned, a laborious sound with a drawn out sigh sort of feel to it, as she checked her phone. Still no texts from Barbara and her coffee was long gone. Brow furrowed, she tossed the empty cup away on her way out of the campus bookstore. She was used to Barbara being unable to make their lunch dates, especially with their schedules already being so hit and miss. However, this had an irritating effect on her nerves. She'd missed ballet practice because of this, and Frau Hollen would kick her ass in training to make up for it. That bitch always got her pound of flesh.

Shaking off her impending mood, she changed direction and veered off towards the dorms. Maybe a few hours rattling out her essay for Ethics in Media would get her mind nice and numb for her five thirty Court System lecture. She'd signed up for fun but Barbara had let it slip to her father and now she had him constantly adding his two cents to her reading and offering ride alongs. Which did wonders for her grade, but it was murder on her sleep. Gotham, the city where daylight hours were a damn myth.

She made it to their dorm, more of a student aged apartment building, and shouldered the door open just in time for a harried freshman to come barreling out clutching her bag in one hand and half a toaster strudel in the other. "Go blesth!" She gasped out as she made a mad dash, pastry firmly clamped in her jaws. Casey was never more grateful that those days were behind her, as a graduating senior she had a wealth of knowledge for anyone who needed it. Which made her job as a student liaison for the Journalism department so ideal. That and the discount on tuition.

She passed the vending machines on her way to the elevator, snagging this week's student publication almost on muscle memory alone. She jabbed the call button with her elbow as she flipped through the pages. She'd already skimmed the online version over breakfast this morning but a few people had nagged her to read the think piece about Gotham's current socio-economic standards being far below those of Metropolis and National City.

Well duh, they had actual hero's who worked with the government and showed their faces.

Biting back some of her vitriol, she stepped into the elevator as she read the article. It was concise and very well researched. She checked the byline and smiled, Rachel was really upping her game. Probably gunning for the seat as Editor-in-Chief for next year. She fished her key from the pocket of her fleece leggings, the biting chill of a mid-January Gotham was no laughing matter but dammit pants were just not on her radar today, and unlocked the door to their apartment.

She walked in and was immediately met with the lingering smell of Barbara's famous apology brownies. She only made those when she'd reached the quota for flaking. But there was something else. Her nose wrinkled, it was unfamiliar but made her think of rich leather. Not unpleasant but still confusing. "Cass?!" There was her roomie, peeking her head around the corner to smile at her shorter friend.

Where Casey was all tan compact curves with a smile to kill for, Barbara was tall yet stacked to the gods, kinda effortlessly elegant. The kind of girl you'd see in those high class balls splattered across Gotham news stands every damn weekend. She looked fresh faced today, probably just showered. Although, looking past her to see the unfamiliar man sipping from one of her haphazardly thrown ceramic mugs made her brows ratchet up to her hairline.

As if hearing her inward screeching, Barbara cleared her throat and gestured to their houseguest. "Cass, this is Bruce Wayne. He's here to offer me an internship, basic data entry to start but I have high hopes." There was only one reason for this heading off, she knew exactly how Casey felt about people like him. The rich who gave nothing to those deemed beneath them. And she had a random man in their living room, she could practically hear the impending lecture about stranger danger.

Famous celebrity/CEO/Philanthropist be damned.

Too bad she didn't know what Barbara knew, or she'd be singing an entirely different tune. Or wringing his neck. It was hard to tell which way her temper would blow at any given input.

Casey pasted on a wan approximation of a smile and nodded. "That's great, get that requirement out of the way. I'm sure it'll open more gates in your career, seeing Wayne Enterprises on that resume." She was doing a good job not looking at him, which was good considering her face wouldn't gel with the standard 'happy to meet you' expression, instead somewhere around 'I don't want you here' sort of mien.

Wayne spoke up from his spot on their couch. "Although we would be insane to let Miss Gordon go anywhere once the internship is over. Top of her class, bright future, and charming to boot. She already has a leg up on a vast majority of her fellow interns. I wouldn't be surprised to see her running the department in short time." He chuckled to himself as Barabara cut her eyes at him. Huh, that wasn't like her.

Brow furrowing a little, she decided she would ask her questions later, when he was gone. "Well don't let me interfere. I have an essay calling me, and I can't put it off any longer. Well, I could if my TA wasn't our neighbor." She quipped, though her heart wasn't in it as she stared at the millionaire, closer to billionaire according to this afternoon's stocks.

What kind of single man showed up at his interns home? She didn't like that, and would be sure to bring it up later. For now, unto the breach.

She yawned as she emerged from her room, looking into the living room on her way to the kitchen and seeing no Wayne. She did see Barbara trying to sneakily ease her door shut, but she cleared her throat. A delicate "hem hem", and that killed those dreams.

The door didn't close further but it didn't open either. "Yes, my darling roomie?" came her saccharine remark. "Oh nothing, just wondering if there's anything I should know about you and Mr. My Toilet Paper costs more than your rent?" That got a reaction, her door swinging open even as Barbara cackled.

"What the fuck, Cass? You think I'm banging my boss? Bit of a jump, don't you think?" She emerged from her room to pour some coffee from the always full carafe by the sink. With a criminal justice and journalism major sharing the living space, caffeine kept the peace.

"Not at all, considering I've never seen you glare at anyone but me, your dad, and that guy you slept with last year." Barbara glared then, rolling her eyes. "You mean John? My boyfriend?" Casey scoffed as she leaned her hip against the counter. "Fucking and coffee dates does not a relationship make. Plus he was so boring he could put Astrophysics to sleep."

Barbara would never understand what it was about the guys in her life, but Casey never approved of a single one. Granted, her shrewd eye and sixth sense was usually right. It made her a killer reporter, and a shit person to lie to. "My point being, you're too lazy to glare at anyone you aren't close with. Ergo, y'all fuckin." The redhead almost spat out her coffee, instead choking it down while wanting to swat that smug grin off her face.

"Okay, one, ew. And two, the man is like...fifteen years older than me. I like them mature but not that mature!" Casey rolled her eyes now, pushing off the counter as she took her keys from the wall peg. Looking back at her roomie she sighed, opening the door. "Just be safe, if he propositions you tell him your roommate has a knife."

For a second she believed her, then she shouted at her back "No you don't!". Thinking she had the last word she took another sip, then promptly sprayed it right back out when the crazy bitch screeched "You don't know my life!" then slammed the door.

She looked at the ceiling as her coffee dripped down the wall, wondering if a jury would convict her for shoving her down the stairs. Did it count as murder if she was sure she would survive?


End file.
